Lakes and Pines
by Kida Lydianna
Summary: A prophecy is told to a kind but aging father: he calls the Dragonborn his child. The premonition wasn't all that clear, he calls two people his children. One, his true born daughter. The other a strong but mournful boy he's adopted out of kindness. He doesn't know it yet, but his daughter and this boy with an unknown past are falling in love... and the time of the dragons is near.
1. Chapter 1

I.

Prologue

Olava And Tree Sap

* * *

Heddvi was nine when her father brought the boy home with him. He had been on business in Markarth; seeing if any larger planks could be sold in the big city rather than in Falkreath, the village just to the south of them.

Heddvi was Hern's only child because it was said that Hert, his wife, had become infertile after she'd brought Heddvi prematurely into the world. And that was why the girl was so small and wasn't expected to live for very long. But Heddvi did live for a long time and after that, and though she would never grow very big, she grew very beautiful very quickly.

They didn't know it, but Heddvi's beauty was whispered of in the village; her strong nordic features were blatantly admired and men lusted over the way the thin girl carried herself. Hern had made many marriage promises to the men in Falkreath for his daughter, though he secretly had no agenda to keep any of them.

They ate, drank, and slept on what Hern named Half-Moon Mill. It was a large mill with three whole buildings. There was their sleeping cabin, a chicken coop, and hunting stall. Then there was the actual mill itself, a large porch like machine with a razor sharp saw and piles of planks piled beside it.

Hern and his women would spend their late evenings sitting lazily on a flat foot bridge that stood over the rushing brook that was fed from Lake Ilinalta and was what ran Hern's mill. They'd sit eating jazboy berries and catching minnows with their toes dangling over their bridge as they watched the night sky begin to illuminate. When Heddvi yawned and grew fatigued Hern would share a look with his wife and together they'd carry their sleepy daughter to her warm bed of furs.

Yes, I tell you, the family was content.

But that was why they were so surprised when Hern left home and returned with the small boy at his hip.

"I was selling wood contracts with the Khaj'iit." He explained to his wife as she met him walking up to their door. "They need wooden poles for their caravans, and Gods be good they were selling a _boy._"

Heddvi remembered her mother's eyebrow dip lower at this. "The Kha'jiit? You trust them? And you traded them our supply?"

Her father spoke defensively . "They are superstitious; too afraid of thievery to cheat a man."

Hert appraised the small boy staring up at her then, and happy with the evident Nord heritage in his blood, she erased her prejudices.

The couple had introduced Heddvi and the boy that morning. It was an easy transition. The tiny girl had stepped forward from behind her mother's skirts and reached out to him in her friendly way, her tiny hands grasping for his. Hern and his wife watched while the two studied each other; both squinting under the hot summer morning.

The girl put out her hand and brushed her fingertips on the boys face; noting the mud caked on his eyelids and his yellow hair dusted from the long walk there.

She traced his body, unknowingly wiping away his sickness with her fingertips. Heddvi left her prints under his eyes, along his cheeks, and over his nose. She soaked in a hard jaw, deeply ridged brows, and a grim mouth. He had a man's look, though his bones were still small; the planes of his face were smooth and boxy. His eyes reflected a pooling gray; the cloudy rods quivering around his pupils, watching her mournfully as she colored him with her hands.

_He smells like stones._ The girl thought. _Like the ones I pluck from the river._

_"_My name is Heddvi," she announces proudly. (She thought her name quite clever.)

"Rigmad."

"Are you going to live here now?"

He shrugs.

"Mother?" She asked Hert. "Is he staying?"

In her little mind she was already calling him brother.

Hert looked to her husband, and seeing the glee there in his fatherly face, she sighed with pretend despondency.

Hern and his daughter grinned, and the boy was added to the nest.

* * *

Hern never asked the Cats where they had picked up the boy for trade; something the rest of the family found only slightly disturbing. But the proud father had yearned for a son ever since the birth of his tiny daughter. He figured he loved Heddvi more than anything, and judged he could love a son even more.

The family gave Rigmad a soft place to rest next to Heddvi in her warm bed. They fed him, clothed him, and wiped the dirt from his swollen feet. Together, they introduced him to the miller's life.

And there the children grew like weeds.

The next few years after that Heddvi held Rigmad's hand every chance she got. She would chatter softly to him about the things she loved, and in return she would ask him about the things he liked; but he would always reply he liked the same things she did, so she would go off and find pale green luna moths and tell him all about them.

"The wings are good for eating. See?"

Rigmad nodded and watched her strip the insect.

"But then you can't see the colors. So I keep them. Here, you'll have this one, and I'll have that one."

Rigmad would obediantly pocket the wing and listen to her tell him how to catch the best torch bugs, but that he should keep in mind not to eat those because then he'd glow in the dark and, well, that wouldn't be any good at all.

Sometimes, Hern or his daughter would question Rigmad on how he came to be with the Kha'jiit, or the Cats, as they called them. Rigmad did remember, but he didn't feel like telling. So instead he would sate their curiosity with stories of warm tents and fishy food. Once he even got Hern to laugh when he mentioned he never understood why the Cats were always cold in Skyrim, since they were all covered in so much fur.

As time went on, he would follow in Heddvi's footsteps and come up with lists of things he loved. His number one was Heddvi, of course, but his second was Hern's laugh.

Hern's laugh was deep and rumbly. His black head would roll back and his mouth would open real wide, showing white rows of teeth between pink lips. Rigmad loved a lot of things about Hern. He loved a lot of things about Hert too. Her eyes were kind, and she would always rest her hand on the top of his head whenever he walked near her.

Hert smelled like tree syrup and woman, but Rigmad also thought she was funny. Whenever the family would walk into Falkreath and catch sight of somebody from a distance land, like a Dark Elf or an Argonian, Hert's eyes would get real big, and she would have trouble looking away, like she just couldn't wrap her head around the idea of them.

Rigmad didn't know it, but Hert thought he was quite strange. She thought he had a strange way of staring too long at things, especially people. _Especially_ Heddvi. Hert didn't find that too concerning, however, and it never occurred to her that Rigmad's love for her daughter would change all of their fates in the end.

Hert hardly ever saw Rigmad smile; it was a rare occurrence, as it was made obvious that Rigmad was a rather stoic child. He would press his lips together tight when he was concentrating and he had a way of staying very still, like he had spent hours watching statues in market places and had mastered imitating them.

After three years Hert told her husband she thought their two children should begin to learn their trade. Until now, they had roamed loose around the lakes and pines around Falkreath, racing each other and seeing how long they could hold their breath under water.

And so they decided Heddvi and Rigmad would learn about wood.

Rigmad was thirteen, Heddvi was twelve, and Hern was almost fifty when he woke the children up from their bed early in the morning.

"Get dressed." He said, and they obeyed. The sun was just rising, and the two moons were just beginning to fade. Birds chirped and wolves howled. Hern took an old walking stick he had fashioned and waited patiently while Hert fed them last minute gruel and apples.

Then he would walk and the two children quietly followed him, repeating what he did when he rapped his knuckles on tree trunks.

"Look at this tree." Hern would explain to them when he had found one he liked. "The sap is like an old woman. It gossips and tells you how good her timber is."

He would take out a carving knife from his pocket and strike a hole in the bark, stepping aside so the children could watch the syrup bleed out.

"If it's yellow and crusty, then its an older tree. Those are no good; too dry. You need sap that runs like water."

"Like this one?" Rigmad called from the nearby tree he had punctured.

Hern squinted, "Yes that is good, but the tree is too small, barely enough to make a bench."

When he had found one he deemed decent, he took his axe and showed Rigmad how to swing it. Rigmad's blows were already deadlier than Herns, and the strikes echoed throughout the forest with a _thwack, thwack. _The tree fell swiftly; its fibers screaming as it fell to its death.

Heddvi applauded with her little hands and Rigmad gifted them with a proud smile. He was breathing heavily and had droplets of sweat gathering on his upper lip. Heddvi walked over and wiped his plastered yellow hair from his forehead, happy to see his grin.

Heddvi loved it when Rigmad smiled. It cracked open his hard face like a nut. His gray eyes would grow smaller and he would breathe air out of his nose like a fire breathing dragon. She planted a kiss on his cheek and pressed her breast to his. She didn't like to admit it, but she just couldn't help but notice the smell of his sweat.

"What do we do with it now? How do we carry it to the mill?" Rigmad asked.

Hern rested his arm on his hip, "We drag it, we'll use your mother's horse and the ropes."

And so Rigmad learned, and Heddvi watched. She was so small she had trouble with the trade, and when she spoke to Hert about it, her mother nodded in agreement. Rigmad was more suited for the millers trade than she was, so Hert made it so Heddvi would learn her numbers and handle the business ledgers with her.

Heddvi was disappointed at first, but she soon recovered and learned the importance of sums and words. She learned history too. She could memorize all the different holds and all the different Emperors and High Kings. She could recite a few of King Olaf's verses and she knew all the good deeds of Talos, the God that was once a man.

But her favorite things to discover were the stories of the dragons. She questioned her parents and pondered with Rigmad where they could have gone or what in Talos' name could they be so busy with they couldn't fly back to Skyrim for a visit?

When her father would come back from out of town business loping down the dusted road and leaning heavily on his walking stick he would pull a new book from behind his back for her. It was a special treat when it was the story like Olaf and the Dragon or something like it. He'd be grinning from ear to ear and would laugh his deep belly laugh when Heddvi leaned in to kiss him. And so Heddvi's mind grew taller than the Throat of the World.

But Heddvi wasn't the only one who grew.

A few years after he had chopped down his first tree, Rigmad seemed to multiply before them. He grew almost abnormally tall and his thin upper lip hair grew into solid beard scruff. His middle grew hard with muscle and his legs became thick and hairy. His voice fell to a deep bass and his hands grew to a size where he could wrap just one of them around Heddvi's entire waist and feel his pointer finger with his thumb.

And as more years went by Rigmad and all the rest of Falkreath couldn't help but notice Heddvi becoming more and more beautiful. Her breasts became noticeable and then some. Her shoulders began to slope and her inner thighs grew soft and her long bright hair grew down to her lower back, making Rigmad want to slide his knuckles through it at any point of the day.

Rigmad couldn't explain the fierce anger he felt when he caught married men slide their eyes down Heddvi's newfound curves. And he couldn't explain why he felt so feverish when they slipped into their adjacent beds of furs and he peered at her chest rising and falling in the dark of the night.

After a hard day of lumbering and working the mill he would fight the urge to lift his fatigued arms and rub them down her torso right between her breasts. He wondered what was down there between those gentle thighs, and, more often than not, he would wonder what it would feel like if they were wrapped around him.

But something always made him try to stop his thoughts. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but he felt like he was committing a grave sin when he thought of those things. Maybe it was the fact that Hern and Hert were in the bed on the other side of that one roomed cabin. Or maybe it was the fact that Hern considered Rigmad his own son and bedding, or even thinking of bedding Heddvi would get Rigmad banished for all eternity. So Rigmad attempted to quench those feelings and tried to focus on his wood and his axe instead.

But soon his dreams became heated with passion and he would grind his teeth together until the pretty young blonde would awaken him with a shake and ask him if he was having a bad dream. He'd just mumble sourly and turn over, trying to shove his excited stomach down before he confessed he was dreaming about her.

Until one night he was surprised.

He thought Heddvi was trying to awaken him again for interrupting her sleep, but instead of resting her hand on his shoulder to shake him, she gently wrapped her fingers around his mouth. He could hardly see in the dark but he thought he saw her press a white finger to her plump lips.

Rigmad shivered when she pressed those lips to his ear and whispered for him to follow her.

He was a bit dazed when she gripped his hand and led him quietly out their front door. He caught sight of Masser and her younger sister, shining bright above him in crescent shapes. Blues and greens streaked between the stars and planets as he was led to a soft bed of grass beside the giant lake that powered his and Hern's mill.

"I know what you do in the night." She said softly.

"I do nothing."

"I know what you dream about." Her blue eyes meet his and she raises one of his hands to her breast. "Feel. My heart is beating so quickly." She said; astonished. "It does that around you."

Rigmad couldn't say anything. He loved the feel of her. The sight of her. Her skin was as soft as he imagined.

Heddvi blushed. "Your hands are rough."

Rigmad could only grunt, "There's a lot of trees."

The sentence didn't make that much sense but his teeth were beginning to grind uncomfortably.

"You are very strong, Rigmad."

Again, he said nothing intelligible. He could tell she was becoming frightened at his lack of response.

"Do you... have nothing to say?"

Rigmad eyed the thin dress she wore to bed. Her feet were bare and his hands were still on her breasts, feeling her heart beating faster and faster with his increased silence.

He moved his hands to her face and gripped the small bones there.

"I love your skin." He said hoarsely. "I love your hair, and I love your eyes when they're real wide. I love to touch your lips and your knees. Especially your knees. I dream about what it would feel like to grip them apart. I love the way you breathe and how when you sleep on your side you get all scrunched up like a fox in den."

He is surprised he has said so much so quickly, and he can feel Heddvi's heart almost stop completely underneath his fingertips.

They don't speak much after that. Heddvi has slid his hands down through her breasts to between her hip bones like she has seen him done with his eyes. His large hands stretch themselves out and she opens and closes her jaws in reverence.

Rigmad is seeing spots when she begins to pant.

He thinks it is wonderful when she pants, he has never heard her do that before, but he already knows he loves it. He can't stop himself then when he grips her shoulders and lays her down on the green forest floor. He presses his mouth to hers and Heddvi's lips opens, allowing him to feel her heartbeat in his jaws.

His trousers are cut loose and before he knows it his member is hard and long. He opens her knees to separate sides of him just like he has in his mind a hundred times over and digs his way in.

"Oh, no." He gasps feverishly, though what he really means is "_Oh, yes."_

Heddvi's lungs are panting harder and she strokes his hair as Rigmad works his way to her core again and again. He is crying promises to Talos and every other God that might be listening that he finally has what he loves. By Gods he has her. Yes, he has what he has prayed for, and he has no intention of giving her up any time soon.

* * *

The old woman watched quietly as Whiterun's gates are opened for a dark haired Nord who limps through with a whittled walking stick. She knows he has taken his wife's horse and buggy filled with lumber from a southern Skyrim hold. She is pleased when he still sells the foreign wood at a fairly cheap price.

The grayed woman has seen this man in her mind's eye. Or more correctly, she has seen his children. She knows this man calls the Dragonborn his child, though he doesn't know it yet. The woman suspects the gray bearded men high above the world in their snow-capped monastery can feel the Dovahkiin's presence, but cannot attach a face to the whispers.

The old woman is bent over as she makes her way to where the Nord aggressively offers prices. The smell of pine fills her experienced nose and her premonitions fill her mind again.

She arrives to where the man suspends his weight on one leg. He notices her and smiles politely. "Any lumber, my lady?"

"I will buy." She mentions quietly.

Olava does not need the lumber, she will probably fetch her grandson to give it away, but she has made up her mind.

"What shall it be? I can advise the best timber for the particular job."

"You are seeing hard times, honest man." She says lowly as she reaches to support her twisted frame on his cart.

The Nord's eyes crunch themselves inward in confusion, "What do you mean, kind mother?"

"My name... is Olava The Feeble."She says distantly with her trembling and gummy mouth.

His eyes reopen in comprehension, "The Feeble? Aye, I have heard of you."

"I can only pay you in advice, but it will be good, that is for sure."

Hern didn't feel young at that moment. Just then he was feeling quite feeble himself. This old seer knew the abnormally hot summer had slurped the sap from even his strongest trees and has made them brittle. The rushing water that powers his mill is low and his wheels turn sluggishly. He has been offering his dull wood to any hold he can get to.

"I ask for gold, not for my future."

"Then I will buy nothing, and present you with a gift."

Hern's superstitious face is like thunder, "I do not wish-"

"Your beautiful daughter asks where all the dragons have gone, as if they are something to be missed. I will tell you this, Hern of the pine forests; one of your children, the strongest one, will rid our world of the most vile of those creatures forever."

"Do you think this is funny?"

"I do not laugh, and you should not either, for you have not yet seen the darkest nights of your life. Pray to your Man-God, Hern, son of Wimgad, but the fates of your family are intertwined with the fates of dragons. Just know that you call the Dragonborn your own. Now take your lumber and return home, no one wishes to buy from you today."

* * *

**_ End of Part One._**


	2. Chapter II

**Chapter II.**

* * *

The wolves were talking to each other.

They were saying, "_Look at that old man with his woman's horse. Look at that frail old man. Can you see that weak, frightened old man?"_

The other wolves would howl back_ "Oh yes, we can see him. We can see him quite clearly._ _Look how he trembles!_"

Hern slapped the reigns of his carriage horse faster, but the steeds ears only pulled back with fatigue; complaining of how much lumber he was dragging.

_"_I should have never gone to Whiterun_," _Hern thought to himself.

Hern peered through the growing dark for his mill. He could just barely make out the roof of his largest building. Hern imagined he was home already embracing his wife or sharing a joke with Rigmad.

He could see the gray canines skirting around the pine trees. He stared into their yellow glowing eyes in the misty clouds until it became hard for him to swallow.

When the fog had first set in he had been cheerful, and his puzzling encounter with the old woman from Whiterun was forgotten for a time. Mists meant water, and water meant rain. But Hern's mood had soured again when he saw that the mist _didn't_ turn to rain, and then he cursed the Gods when his trip home was lengthened because of it.

The trees wouldn't be drinking tonight. Maybe he wouldn't be drinking either, if the wolves got to him.

Hern cracks his whip harder on the horses rump, but he can only manage to get an annoyed snort from the thing.

He was so very tired. He was so very afraid.

But he was a Nord, and Nords never let on what they were feeling.

So he set his trembling jaw in a hard box, stared straight ahead, and pondered Olava's words to keep the howls at bay.

_His strongest child was the Dragonborn._

His strongest child was Rigmad. But Rigmad wasn't really his child, only Heddvi shared his blood. But there was no possible way she could be the Dragonborn. She was so small, so delicate, so _feminine_. No, if anyone was the Dragonborn, it was Rigmad. He was big, he was loud, he was strong. He came from a rather troubled past, Hern didn't know where, but he knew Rigmad's early childhood was filled with bad people.

He could see it in his eyes. Those sad, sad eyes.

_The Dragonborn himself is fiction, _Hern almost said aloud. There are no Dragons, therefore there is no need for a Dragonborn. The old woman was loosing her wits and nothing more. Hern would only have good, old days ahead of him. Troubled, due to the drought, but good. He was too old to consider otherwise.

The horse lurches to a stop. Startled, Hern looked about him.

He was surrounded by his mill. His wife was there waving from the doorway of their cabin. Heddvi was bringing him a tankard of water, and he could hear Rigmad splitting wood just around the corner with a dull axe.

"Father." Heddvi calls happily and gifts him with a kiss. "Did you sell much?"

Hern shakes his head. "No, only traded for your gifts. I've brought you this."

Heddvi grins. "I thank you, I am glad you are back," she says as she reaches for the thick book he was handing her. "It seems brand new."

"And for you, my wife." He says gently to Hert who has come to hug him in exchange for the silver diamond necklace he's offering.

Hert smiles. "My ever thoughtful husband returns. Thank you dear. Did you have much trouble on the road?"

"Wolves, but my noble steed here scared them away." Hern replied after giving the miserable creature a good slap.

Hert laughs uneasily. "Those dogs are increasing in number, it seems."

"Have no fear, my love. Your husband still has some fight in him, do not forget."

"Hern!" They hear Rigmad call in greeting.

"Dear boy." He says when they exchange a gruff embrace.

Rigmad looks at him expectantly. "How much profit?"

"Little...none. I've just exchanged for these for gifts, though."

"Are you thirsty, Rigmad?" Heddvi asks the young man.

"Aye, I am." He nods and accepts the water. When he finishes he looks up from his tankard and nods for Hern to come aside with him.

"I wanted to speak with you." Rigmad explains when the two are walking along the lake side.

"I needed a word as well." Hern responds.

Rigmad looks at him, "Oh? You can go first."

Hern sighs and stamps his walking stick on the ground. "I am growing old, son."

Rigmad almost winces, and with a strained voice he says, "It's Rigmad, unfortunately, I am not your son."

"But you are the one who is really running my mill. We both know you do the most work."

"Aye," Rigmad nods. "But I am only your laborer, not your heir."

"But you are. When I am dead, I will give you the mill," Hern counters forcefully.

Rigmad shakes his head, irritated.

"This mill is rightfully Heddvi's. But, nevermind that, it doesn't matter with what I have to say. The forest is thirsty."

"The forest is thirsty." Hern repeats him slowly. "Aye, this I know."

"We have to abandon the mill." Rigmad argues gently. "Hert is weak. Heddvi is hungry."

"By Gods you must be joking. We're all hungry. That comes with this time of year."

"Then why did you barter for gifts like that? You could have traded for some food."

"We can sell the amulet for-"

"We have to move to the big city." Rigmad interrupts him. "I say we all go back to Whiterun."

"This is a drought year, son. Nothing more. It will pass." Hern says defensively.

"I'm not your son. And what if it never changes?"

"We are _not_ leaving." Hern finally calls as he stamps down his stick with a fleshy thud. "This isn't your mill yet. We are staying."

Rigmad's face has become hard again. Stone features replace the concerned ones.

"Then you let your daughter starve." Rigmad mutters through his teeth. "Have you seen her lately?"

"Starve? Look around you boy, you like fish? Get yourself a pole and wade into that water. Lumber isn't everything."

Rigmad seems to consider this and swallows hard. "Forgive me. I was...out of line."

Hern sighs, "we can trade with some hunters tomorrow for some meat. Fish for ourselves."

"Aye..." Rigmad agrees shamefully. He looks out on the lake and breathes a lungful of fatigued air. "Gods the lake is big."

"Its as big as a herd of giants." Hern adds lightly now.

"Or dragons."

"What did you say?"

Rigmad is surprised by Hern's incredulous tone. "What?"

"You said Dragons."

"Aye? After you said Giants."

"There's no such things as Dragons. They're only legends."

"I know. I just meant they were big."

"How do you know Dragons are big if they aren't real?"

"Because...what are you saying Hern? Let's go back inside."

"I-I think I will stay out here for a while. Think a bit."

Rigmad looks quizzically at him before he makes his way back to their lodge. "Suit yourself."

* * *

Hern drank heavily that night. But his family ignored it and laughed surreptitiously when Hern drowsily shuffled to his furs and began to snore loudly. Hert took that as a sign and crawled in tight beside him.

Hert wondered what would happen to Heddvi when their daughter grew tired of living with them. She wondered what would happen to Rigmad when she left. The poor boy would be heartbroken, never had she seen two people so dependent on the other. Even Hert needed space from her husband at times, and there was no one she loved more than Hern. Yes, she decided, Rigmad and Heddvi were something special.

But she still felt violated that night when she heard a noise from the opposite side of the lodge other than her husband's loud, drunken snoring.

She thought maybe she was hearing things, perhaps dreaming, but when she cleared her head, she could still hear their quiet whispers.

"You won't ever leave, Rigmad."

"Not without you."

"But you love this life. I can always hear you whistling while you work."

_They're whispering from their beds. _Hert thought.

Rigmad's soft bass spoke next.

"I don't think I've ever seen you this thirsty, I'm telling you, this drought isn't seasonal."

_"_It'll get better, love," Heddvi's pretty soprano whispered back.

Rigmad lets out a frustrated grunt. "The air is so dry it hurts to breathe. I can feel it."

"Why don't you come over here and feel me instead?"

"Hush, your parents are just over there."

Heddvi shuffles out of her furs and Hert can hear her feet pad against the floor beams to Rigmad's bed and crawl in next to him.

"They were so drunk, they'll never wake up."

Hert blinked.

Rigmad folds Heddvi into his arms and they speak quietly to each other. Hert can't make it out exactly, but she can definitely hear Rigmad whisper _Riften, _and _marriage. _

_So that's it then_. Hert thinks to herself. _They're going to leave us._ _That traitor Rigmad is going to take my only child far, far away to a big city and let her marry some boy from the city._

"I love you, Rigmad."

"As I love you." Rigmad kisses her softly. "Are you sure you want this?"

"I think I could be happy anywhere, if I was with you."

Rigmad blinks rapidly in the dark, breathing through his nose and trying not to let the girl see how her words have touched him.

"That's all I've ever really wanted to hear you say." He said through a cracking voice.

"Make love to me, Rigmad. Please?"

"Ssshh, Heddvi."

There's more quiet shuffling, but Hert doesn't want to hear anymore.

Hert accidentally bites her tongue as the hot tears leak out of her eyes. She plugs her ear drums with her knuckles and thanks the Gods for her husbands snoring. No one would hear her sobs.

The night passes slowly.

* * *

"Any mead, mother?" Heddvi asked Hert the next morning.

"No."

"Okay." Heddvi says gently as she grips the aging woman's hand and helps her to her chair near the hearth fire.

"Where is Rigmad, Heddvi?" Hert asks her.

"He is fishing, I think."

"Oh... I wish your father was here." Hert says randomly.

"Aye, me as well. He is trading with some hunters. He said he would be back before dark."

"Heddvi?"

Heddvi kindly swipes her mother's graying hair from her eyes. "Yes?"

"You wouldn't ever leave us, would you?"

Hert's creaky heart thundered loudly as Heddvi hesitated.

"I..I think someday I will leave the mill...but, I'll make sure to bring you with us."

"Who is us?"

"Well, everyone in our family. You and me, Rigmad, and father. Rigmad thinks we should all go to Whiterun and settle down there. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"No, it wouldn't." Hert said sourly.

Heddvi stops twisting Hert's thin hair into braids.

"But why?" She answered as if she was expecting a rebuttal. "Running a mill is hard work, especially for someone of father's age."

"No, your father will never agree to it. He loves this life, and so do you."

Heddvi is quiet, but then chooses her next words carefully.

"I _like_ this life, " she said with choice stresses. "It's peaceful... and beautiful. But it's hard too."

"Nords live hard lives, and that's the truth of it."

"Oh, mother thats-" but she never gets a chance to finish.

"You know what else Nord's do? They work hard. But do you know what Nord's _don't_ do? They don't lay with their brothers."

The silence that happens between them is monumental. Hert can feel her daughters hands shaking as she pulls them from her hair.

The girls voice is so scared and quiet it leaves Hert a little heartbroken.

"He is not my brother."

Hert feels like crying again when her beautiful daughter steps away and disappears into the early morning air, leaving Hert completely regretting what she has said.

* * *

Rigmad is sitting on the lakeshore with a hastily made fishing pole and thinks about sunshine.

The morning air was hot. Another symptom of the hold's thirst. Even the lake water was spectacularly low from all the sun it was getting. Just staring at the light reflected off the water could make one go blind. While in Falkreath just that morning he had overheard Lod tell Runil about how a man addicted to skooma had lost his eyesight after becoming entranced by the sunlight and had stared straight at it until his eyes had started to smoke and start aflame.

Rigmad had doubted it was just the skooma that had captured the strangers mind. He suspected magic or maybe even the work of a daedra, but he didn't dare say so to Lod.

Rigmad was already a sort target of Lods. Just a week before when he and Heddvi had walked into town and had purchased a room from the inn, Lod's eyes had followed Rigmad as if he had wanted to burn him in his forge like he did with his steel.

But Rigmad had ignored Lod's jealous looks and had ushered Heddvi into the room and had shut the door behind him.

That was the first night he had lain Heddvi in a bed.

Before that he had always taken her on the forest floor. It was either that or he had spread her legs and had shoved her up against a wide tree until he had spilled his seed inside of her.

Rigmad thought making love in a bed was a whole lot more intimate than in the woods, as much as he loved trees.

Heddvi was always more comfortable surrounded by furs instead of dirt. She would whisper love songs and move her hips in such a way it made Rigmad want to tear his hair out. In the deep hours of the night she had whimpered and cried his name until she had collapsed under him and had fallen asleep.

Then he had watched her dream and hatched his plan to take her far away where he could keep her for himself and bind her to him under the eyes of Mara.

He had woken her before the sun rose and together they slunk back to the mill and climbed into their beds before her parents even knew what had happened.

"Rigmad."

His thoughts are interrupted by her voice, and he turns grinning as she hurries over to him. His smile disappears as he spots the tears falling from her eyes and her gentle hands in fists at her side.

"What is wrong?" He asked bewildered and with outstretched arms.

But she could only let out a jarbled sigh and fell into his warm embrace.

"There, there, love. Are you hurt?" Rigmad said comfortingly while stroking her hair.

She shook her blonde head and said, "only my heart."

"What has happened?" Rigmad gives her a squeeze and presses his lips up to hers. "What is wrong?"

"Mother knows, she knows about us."

"What do you mean?"

Rigmad pulls her onto his lap so he can look at her better. Heddvi's eyes are red and puffy and she sniffles miserably as she rests her head on his shoulder.

"She knows we have lain together. She considers you my brother, and thats...thats blasphemy."

Rigmad's composure darkens. He quickly grabs her jaw and makes deeper eye contact. "Am I your brother?"

Heddvi huffs, "...no."

"Do you love me?"

"Very much so." She whispers sadly.

"Do I love you?" He questions.

She pauses, and looks deep into the gray orbs laser beaming into hers.

"Yes." She says confidently.

"Then we have to marry. We _need _to marry. We're going to tell them. Tonight." He said, suddenly very sure of himself. "Both of them."

Heddvi shakes her head vigorously. "They won't let us!"

"Then we'll make them understand. We'll show them how much we love each other, and if they don't..."He trails off.

"What will we do then?"

"We leave." He says defiantly. "We'll run away to the city, and I _will_ marry you."

Heddvi's face twists and she tries to pull away. "That will break their hearts."

Rigmad grips her back closer. "We have to before they break ours. Promise me Heddvi, you will marry me."

The wind blows through their yellow hair and their tanned skin. They can both hear the other's heart beat and the fish rustling in the waters beneath them. They can hear Hert crying behind wooden walls and Hern's desperate, hungry bargains with nearby hunters.

"I will marry you."

Rigmad let's out a sigh.

"Then I'll talk to your father tonight, and you tell your mother."

Heddvi swallows the lump in her throat and nods, gripping his hand tightly.

"You know that shanty up on that hill above the village?" Rigmad asks then.

"Yes."

"Meet me there, when the moon is directly above you. I'll have bought horses. Then we ride for Riften."

"You'll have bought horses?"

"Aye, I have saved up over the years, it'll be enough."

"What of my parents?" She asks.

"If they approve maybe they'll let us use your mother's horse, if not..."

"Then we'll steal the beast. We'll need all the money we can get. I can sell my books."

Rigmad is surprised by the suggestion. His Heddvi;_ stealing; _the thought was amusing.

"Alright," Rigmad laughs and before he can help himself he takes her face in his hands and kisses her again.

"When the moon is up?" Heddvi pants when he lets her go.

"When the moon is up." He confirms, and Heddvi is running back to the lodge, she turns back around once to give him a loving smile before throwing open the door to the lodge and explaining herself to her mother.

* * *

Hern was grouchily returning to the lodge with a few ducks slung over his shoulder and less coin in his pocket.

He was leaning heavily on his stick and thinking about how nice a good swig of mead would be just about then. Hern spots Rigmad approaching him and his mood lightens.

"Get over here and take a load off an old man." He says playfully.

Rigmad grips the game from their ropes and slings them over his back.

"Hern, there's something I need to tell you."

"Let an old man waddle for some mead, first." He huffs with a laugh.

"No. Now."

Rigmad's voice is so serious it makes Hern's eyes widen and halt his tired sighs.

"Is there a problem at the mill?" Hern asks.

"That depends." Rigmad stops, and then returns again with choppy, nervous words. "I...wanted to tell you that I'm going to Riften."

"Riften? You want to try selling there? That is far...maybe not worth the trip."

"No, I'm going to Riften...and I don't think I'll be coming back."

"What is this? You are leaving us?"

Rigmad squints and uses his hand to shade his eyes from the hot sun as he stares at his adopted father. "Yes."

"You joking? How am I supposed to run a mill by myself and my aging wife? Heddvi cannot do it. Besides I'm giving everything to you! This is a joke, I know it."

"It's not a joke." Rigmad retorts. "And I'm taking Heddvi with me."

Rigmad nervously twists the game ropes in his hand, causing the beginnings of blisters to appear on his well calloused hands. His stomach is icy and hot at the same time as he watches his words sink inside Hern's mind.

"Does she want to?" Hern's sad voice asks then.

"Yes...but there's more."

"What is more? My children are leaving me!"

"Your child. Singular. I am not your son. Though you seem so apt to call me so."

Hern shakes his head in disbelief. "What is it with you and being called my son? I love you like my own! Why can't you welcome that?"

Rigmad's heart is beating quickly and fearfully. He feels as if he is running very quickly in one direction but what he wants is running faster, and he just can't quite catch it.

"I do welcome it...but what I mean is... that I could not marry the girl I want to marry if I were your son."

Hern grunts, "You are not making any sense, you can marry any girl you wish."

"I wish to marry Heddvi!" His voice is surprisingly shrill, like how it sounded when he was a boy, and he is almost embarrassed by it. Hern doesn't notice, however, he's too focused on Rigmad's words that seem to flood to his ears and burn there like molten lava.

"What? Heddvi is your sister! That is ...sinful. This is a joke, surely."

"But she isn't!" Rigmad says, desperate now and coming near him with an outstretched hand. "We are good for each other. We know each other, we love each other-"

"Love? Love?"

"Aye! Love. I love your daughter, please, I can marry her, I can provide for her, I can-"

"Stop this! Stop this! what are you saying?"

"No, Hern, she loves me back! She does, and we have lain together and she has promised me-"

"What?! What is this? What has befallen my ears?"

Rigmad winces, thinking that what he just said wouldn't help his case any. Hern is furious. He is shaking so hard Rigmad is afraid he will keel over and die right there on the road. He huffs and puffs and kicks at the dust in the ground and waves his walking stick in the air at Rigmad.

"Die! Devil, you...evil defiler! You have taken my daughter before she was married, taken by her brother! How dare you? How _dare you!" _

"Hern, please."

"No! No, I have... I have... I have given you everything! Yes, I have! I took you in... you milk drinker!" He takes a shaky swing at Rigmad's face. "I gave you food! I gave you drink! I put a roof over your head and parents to your name and _this_ is how you repay me? This is how you repay me?"

"I am sorry...Hern, but I do not see how this is a problem-" His voice rough again.

"You have lain with your own sister! But what is worse you have taken her without my permission and without marrying her, you bastard!"

"Hern stop please you have to understand, we love each other! She has pledged herself to me! I will marry her and her taking won't be in vain, I promise!"

"You cannot have my daughter! Rigmad I have given you everything! I have given you myself! My wife! My home! and now you have taken my daughter and want to take her far, far away-"

Hern has to stop because he is coughing so much, hacking up a dry, thirsty lung and dropping his stick in the dust.

"Let me help you, " Rigmad offers.

"Get away from me!" He screeches when his breath returns. "Leave! Never come back, leave! I never want to see you again!"

"But Hern, have mercy!"

"I...banish you! Run away Cat Boy and be gone forever!"

Rigmad starts to back away, dropping the ropes of game and crying in disbelief.

"But I love you as much as I love Heddvi! I may not have your blood but I love you as if I did!You can come with us and we can live together again in the cities!"

"I said...BEGONE!" Herns words are final, and the old man gasps for a tired breath as Rigmad disappears into the trees with his face in his hands.

Neither of them noticed the dark clouds gathering high above them.

* * *

"Do you understand mother?" Heddvi asks fretfully.

Hert was in the corner where she had been curled up in a bundle since that morning and has said nothing.

"I love him, more than anything...and you know that...we have lain together, but, what is good is that he wants to marry me! You can come with us and we can live an easier life in the cities, maybe even a farm just outside the walls of Whiterun, that would-"

"Hush, child." Hert's hoarse voice whispered.

Heddvi closes her lips together and waits.

Hert's breath is ragged and heavy. Her bones and muscles crack and stretch as she turns to look at the girl standing above her bed.

"You have forgotten the most important thing."

Heddvi is quiet, waiting.

"You have lain with him, yes. And he wants to marry you, that is good. He does not plan to take you and then leave you. But you cannot ever be with him."

Heddvi still says nothing.

"You cannot marry him...because one cannot marry their brother."

"He isn't my brother."

Heddvi's voice is icy cold, it is the harshest thing she has ever said to her mother.

"But I have nursed him, I have loved him and the towns know him as my son. My daughter can not marry my son. What would the people say?"

"Then we will leave you. If you refuse." A dead look enters the girls eyes.

"No, you will stay. He will be the one to leave. He is the traitor here, he has deflowered an innocent girl."

"If we had not lain together already, would you have approved?"

Hert purses her lips. "Do not change the subject."

_"If we had not made love, would you have allowed it?" _Heddvi asks furiously.

Hert says nothing.

"Then we are leaving, and we are never coming back " Heddvi says then, stepping away from Hert's bedside and retreating out the door.

"It is too late for you!" Hert calls throatily out to her as Heddvi slams the door behind her.

But the door is reopened only a few minutes later as Hern enters with his arm gripped around Heddvi's with the sudden regained strength of his youth in his muscles. He pulls her back inside the lodge and throws her down into a kitchen chair.

"You can't stop us!" Heddvi cries with leaky eyes.

"Quiet, girl!" Hern says loudly. He is standing tall and walks without his walking stick, his rage renewing his body for a short time.

"He is gone! I have banished him!" Hern tells her harshly. "I forbid you to see him again."

Heddvi gets up and goes for the door again. "I am following him."

"No, you're not. You've promised to meet him someplace, didn't you?"

Heddvi doesn't answer.

"Didn't you? Answer me, girl!"

"I won't tell you!"

Hern almost hits her, his gray beard quivering along with his trembling lip, mimicking the girls cowering form. He realizes what he is about to do and lowers his arm.

"Tell me, and I will go and fetch him." He says fatigued.

"And do what with him?"

"Hern what are you saying?" Hert says from her bed.

"Quiet, woman!"

"If you bring him back, will you try to listen to what we have to say?" Heddvi asks desperately.

Hern is quiet for a moment, and seems to be working things out in his mind.

"...Aye."

"He's... in the hunters shanty, on the mountain ridges to the north." Heddvi whispers.

"Do not consider it, Hern!" His wife calls from her place. "Remember how he has lain with her! The bastard!"

Hern is suddenly all action, fired up again at his wife's words.

He grips Heddvi's arm again and yanks her to the other side of their house towards the cellar, he throws open the trap door with one hand and throws the twisting and screeching Heddvi down through the hole.

Hert gasps but says nothing.

Heddvi stumbles down the rickety ladder but lands on her feet, banging on the door from below as Hern shuts it closed and locks it tight.

* * *

**End of Part Two.**


End file.
